


An Unforgettable Christmas

by Pastaaddict



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas Truce of 1914, England and Germany look back, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, World War I, under the same name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 03:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16589819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastaaddict/pseuds/Pastaaddict
Summary: It's Remembrance Day and the Centenary of the End of WWI so I wanted to post something to commemorate it.  This is a Christmas story but it's the only one I've written that takes place in WWI so enjoy!Hetalia does not belong to me!





	An Unforgettable Christmas

 

_**An Unforgettable Christmas** _

 

 

America's Christmas Eve party was, as usual, over the top. The tree threatened to burst through the roof, Christmas bling hung everywhere and, this year, the cake was Santa's sleigh, which was flying above everyone's head, on an apparatus coming out of the ceiling. Britain was half afraid that the cake would be dumped on their heads at any moment as he avoided standing under it, only to accidentally stand under the mistletoe and France homed in like a laser-guided missile, sweeping the unsuspecting Englishman into his arms and thoroughly kissing Britain who was stunned for a moment before he recovered and invaded France's vital regions with his knee, making his escape while France writhed on the ground with his hands between his legs.

 

Britain managed to find an out-of-the-way spot where France was unlikely to find him, sipping at the drink he had snatched during his escape and sat down in his secluded seat. At least he was reasonably safe from groping Frenchmen and he could have a moment of relative quiet. A few minutes later, he was joined by someone else also seeking a moment of peace.

 

Italy had been distracted by Romano, giving Germany a reprieve from Italy's party excitement and he snuck away while Romano was giving Italy a dressing down for being an idiot (he had brought his cat, Pookie, who was currently up the Christmas tree and Romano had to stop Italy from climbing the tree after him). Germany snagged a beer from the drinks table as he passed it and looked for a hidden spot and found someone had beaten him to it.

 

“Guten Abend, Britain,” he greeted when he saw the British nation sat in the out of the way place he had found and sat down in the chair beside Britain. He figured Britain was hiding from someone as well. Could be America but it was more likely to be France and Germany wondered if the fact that France was walking funny had anything to do with the Brit.

 

“Good Evening, Germany,” Britain replied. “Escaping Italy for a bit?” From where he was sat, he could see Italy trying to climb the tree after his cat, despite Romano trying to pull him back out of it and the tree swayed, ominously.

 

“That kid!” Germany replied in exasperation. “He's my best friend but sometimes …... well, his bruder can take care of him for a while.” They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and enjoying their reprieve from the madness for a moment.

 

“Do you remember the first time we sat drinking together like this?” Britain asked after a while, smiling slightly at his thoughts. Germany smiled too.

 

“Ja, how could I forget!” he replied. “That was a Weihnachten ( _Christmas_ ) not to be forgotten …...”

 

* * * * *

 

_Christmas Eve, 1914 …._

 

Germany could not remember being so cold as he sat in the trenches with his men in the dark night in the closing days of the first year of this war. His men were sitting in the mud, huddled around fires in an attempt to keep warm on this late wintry Christmas Eve and he wondered how Prussia was doing after the attempted invasion of the East part of him some months early by Russia. He had received letters from Prussia but they consisted of 'Ja, I'm still awesome! No one can keep the Awesome Me down!' but Germany knew Prussia would say that if he was on his death-bed because Prussia would never admit to any kind of weakness, no matter what the circumstances.

 

Some movement caught his eye and he turned to see some of his men put up impromptu Christmas decorations while somewhere, a voice began singing the Austrian Christmas carol _Stille Nacht._ The lone voice were joined by others as more men took up the tune and Germany smiled at the pure innocence of the moment in this time of brutal war and he wondered what his bruder was doing right now.

 

Then, from across No Man's Land, from the British trenches, he could hear _Stille Nacht_ being sung in English, faint at first but then louder as if to compete with their German rivals and the German soldiers rose to the challenge in a singing battle, fighting with voices rather than guns. In the dark of the night, the carol sung in two different languages was the only thing to be heard. No shells exploding, no shots fired, just this beautiful seasonal song being sung by sides at odds with each other.

 

It made Germany think of home, of singing carols with Prussia and Austria. Prussia actually had a pretty good singing voice and no one was better than Austria, musically and Germany felt homesick as he began singing too. He was sorry when the song came to a close.

 “Fröhliche Weihnachten! ( _Merry Christmas!_ )” someone shouted and Germany realised that it was now past midnight and they were into Christmas Day.

 

“Merry Christmas!” was the shouted reply and Germany realised that, even though they were all soldiers, under it all, they were all human beings too. Germany wondered how Britain, on the other side of No Man's Land, was feeling tonight. Was there anyone he was missing and wishing he could spend the season with? …..

 

* * * * *

 

Britain huddled down in his great coat, the collar pulled up against the cold, holding out his hands to warm by the fire in front of him while others around him did the same and also huddled together for warmth. As a Nation, Britain could have been billeted with the generals in warm, safe barracks but no nation did this in a time of war. They stayed with the men who were doing the fighting, not with high rankers who thought that close enough to the battlefield was thirty miles away from it. High rankers! High wankers more like!

 

He took out the gift that was being distributed to all servicemen that he had received recently. A brass tin with the profile of Princess Mary, surrounded by a laurel wreath with an ornate M on either side. Above was a cartouche bearing the words _Imperium_ _Britannicum_ flanked by a sword on one side and a scabbard on the other. Below was another cartouche with _Christmas_ _1914_ with battleships on either side. Up the sides were circles with France and Russia inside, over the top of three furled flags. In the corners were roundels containing the names of the other allies, Belgium, Japan, Montenegro and Serbia, spelt as Servia. Britain opened the tin and inside was a packet of sweets, a pencil contained inside a bullet case and a Christmas card, along with a picture of Princess Mary.

 

As a Christmas treat, Britain popped one of the sweets into his mouth and put the rest away. He had eyed the pencil and thought about writing a letter but who to? America maybe? But things were still a little strained between them. His brothers perhaps? Britain was not sure that they would care to get a letter from him, their relationship was never that close. Or France. After all, Britain was fighting to protect him, even though his main reason for joining the conflict was Belgium who had wanted to stay out of the whole mess but had been invaded by Germany in his effort to get at France and Britain had been honour-bound to intervene by the London Treaty of 1839.

 

Britain sighed and had decided to think about it tomorrow when a voice singing in German drifted across No Man's Land and it was joined by others and Britain recognised the tune as _Silent Night_. He smiled at the whimsicalness of such a lovely song sounding over a battlefield and then one of his own men began to sing the song in English and soon, others joined in and Britain lent his voice to it as well. The song came to an end and Britain wished it could go on.

 “Fröhliche Weihnachten!” a voice shouted over the mud and destruction of No Man's Land.

 “Merry Christmas!” someone further down the trenches yelled back and Britain secretly agreed. They might be enemies but Christmas was special to both countries and Britain would not deny any enjoyment that his men might find here at Christmas on the battlefield

 

* * * * *

 

The ground was covered with frost as dawn broke on Christmas morning and the fires were still burning in a valiant but vain effort to keep the cold at bay but the men still said Christmas salutations to each other. Britain's back cracked as he straightened up from the hunched over position by the fire that he had slept in. He stretched to work the kinks out of his bones and loosen his stiff muscles then went in search of a can to boil water in to make some tea. He was getting low so maybe he would write to Scotland to sent him some decent Earl Grey. For now, he would have to make do with the tea the army provided the troops with when supplies ever got through.

 

That was when he heard someone from the German trenches shout, “Nicht schießen! Do not shoot! _”_ and he climbed the ladder and carefully looked over the top of the trench to see Germany walking toward them, holding a flag of truce.

 

“Hold your fire, lads!” Britain ordered. He wanted to see why Germany would risk coming across No Man's Land toward his enemy.

 

* * * * *

 

Germany did not know why he was doing what he was doing but when the thought struck him that Britain might be amenable to a truce after the night before, he had to act on it so he had called out to his enemy, holding a flag of truce. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the order not to fire and saw Britain climb from his own trench, holding his own flag and they met in the middle.

 

“Danke, Britain,” Germany said. “I wish to call a temporary truce to the hostilities for today. There should be no fighting at Christmas.” Britain thought about it. He knew the generals would not be happy about it but sod them! They were safe, thirty miles behind the lines in warm barracks, probably tucking into hot Christmas dinners later so he nodded.

 

“I agree,” he replied. The idea of fighting today was not in-keeping with the _Peace on Earth_ of the season and time away from the fighting would be nice, if only for a little while. “There should be no battling today. We can gather our dead and give them a decent burial.” He looked around at some of the bodies they had been unable to collect without being shot themselves. “They shouldn't be allowed to rot out here.” Germany smiled, sadly.

 

“Ja,” he said. “We can lay them to rest with dignity.” He held out his hand for Britain to shake and they returned to their trenches to spread the news and organise burial groups and teams to bring back their dead. The possessions of fallen soldiers were packed up for return to their families and the fallen were buried with solemn respect.

 

For a while, British and German soldiers just milled around, unsure of what to do but one by one they began talking. A British soldier took out a photograph, probably of his family and showed it to a German soldier and the German soldier did the same and they began talking of home in broken English and German. Others followed suit and then they began swapping things like they were exchanging gifts. German chocolate and British cigarettes were given, things that soldiers from both trenches had made from spent shell and bullet casings. Britain and Germany watched as the veil of war and soldiers fell away leaving behind men of both nationalities with longings for home and family, each with their hopes and dreams of the future, should they survive the madness of the Great War.

 

“War and culture aside,” Britain commented, as he sat with Germany, sipping the tea he had been making and had offered Germany some. “They're all the same, under the skin.”

 

“Ja,” Germany replied, his hands around the warm tin cup. “A shame they're separated by conflict. Do you really think that this war will end all wars?” Britain sighed.

 

“It would be nice,” he replied. “But I don't think human beings are mentally set up that way. If previous wars haven't taught them that war is bad, I don't see how this one will get it through to them. There will always be differing opinions and there'll be those who'll use force to prove that their opinion is right. I wouldn't be in this war if your boss didn't think he had a right to occupy Belgium.” Germany shook his head.

 

“France joined the enemy,” he said. “Belgium was between us and refused to let us go through.”

 

“That was her right,” Britain argued. “Giving you leave to pass through would have been seen as Belgium taking sides and she wanted to stay out of it. She should have been allowed to.”

 

“My boss still can't believe you went to war over it,” Germany replied. “Over the Treaty of London!”

 

“Ah,” Britain said. “The so-called 'piece of paper'. It was more than that. It was a promise to maintain the neutrality of countries like Belgium. I came into this war because of a promise. It was a matter of honour.”

 

“Still …..,” Germany began to argue again but then he sighed again. “This is not a day for argument. This is a day of peace before we have to return to war again.” And Britain nodded.

 

“Hopefully, it won't last long,” he replied. “Then we can all go home. With luck, we'll all spend next Christmas in the comfort of our own homes.”

 

“That would be nice,” Germany replied as he looked over the soldiers and saw some of them had gathered and were kicking a ball round, having a good time in harmless competition, for once. Britain smiled and turned to Germany.

 

“Fancy a kick-about?” he asked, knowing Germany had as big a passion for the sport as he did and it looked like fun. Germany smiled and nodded. They put down their now empty tin cups, stood up, removed their greatcoats and joined the other solders in a match where the rules simply consisted of no rough tackles and just get the ball in your opponent's goal. Britain accidentally? kicked the ball into Germany's face and Germany got his own back later in the game.

 

When the game finished, they went back to where they left their greatcoats, the physical exertion keeping them warm against the December cold as they put their coats back on before it could seep back into their bones.

 

“I would have sworn I would have gotten you with that last shot,” Britain said, fastening his buttons.

 

“Your attacks were too direct,” Germany replied, doing up his own coat. “I could see your shots coming from a mile away.” Britain sighed.

 

“What do you think we'll be doing next year,” he mused. Germany looked up into the sky.

 

“Next year?” he wondered but before he could voice his thoughts, there was a explosion and mud and debris was thrown in the air, making men run in the direction of their trenches. There was another round and Britain and Germany realised that they were being shot at. Probably by generals, unhappy with the truce. Wankers!

 

Men jumped back into the safety of their trenches as the peaceful Christmas brought to an end. Britain landed in the mud beside them and cursed. It had been such a good day and it was ruined by generals you would never see in the trenches. Was one Christmas Day of peace too much to ask for? He knew he was probably going to be called to face the generals for allowing it but he did not care! It was the men in the trenches who were fighting for him and that was who he owed anything to.

 

Sod the generals!

 

* * * * *

 

Germany sighed as he settled back into his trench and his men hunkered down into the mud. It was nice while it lasted but, down inside, he knew either his military leaders or Britain's were going to object to the fraternisation and put a stop to it. He was going to get a tongue lashing from his superiors but he did not regret a thing. Even after being chased off No Man's Land by guns, he still felt light-hearted from the war-free day. It would probably never happen again, his superiors would see to that and that was a shame.

 

The world might not hear of or remember this day as knowledge would probably be suppressed by both sides but he would never forget it and he was sure that Britain would remember it too.

 

* * * * *

 

Both were called before their superiors for a dressing down in allowing their men to fraternize with the enemy. Germany just took it on the chin while Britain called the British generals a bunch of twats who would not know a battlefield if they were dropped into the middle of one and, needless to say, that did not go down too well but Britain could not have care less about how they felt about it. It was a day he would never forget, even if it faded from the memory of the rest of the world.

 

* * * * *

 

_Present day …._

 

To the surprise of both Britain and Germany, knowledge of the Christmas Truce had got out and it was never forgotten by the world. Over a hundred years on and the story was still being told, especially on the hundredth anniversary of the event and it made Britain and Germany feel humble that people still looked on the event as a moment of sanity in the madness of World War I.

 

They were both pulled out of their reminiscences by an ominous creak as Italy had managed to climb into the tree after Pookie and the tree was unable to take the extra weight. Almost in slow-motion, the tree began to tilt and then fall with a scream that probably came from Italy and crashed to the floor while people scattered out of it's way. Pookie leapt from the tree, landing on a cursing Romano's head and using it as a platform to reach the floor to disappear under the food table to cower for the rest of the night.

 

As Italy called out, “Germany, Germany!” while pinned under the tree, Germany sighed and got up to, once again, help his Italian friend out of a sticky spot. He took a few steps before Britain called him.

 

“Still up for our usual Christmas football match tomorrow?”

 

“Ja,” Germany replied and went to pull Italy from under the tree.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Princess Mary Christmas Tin was a real thing, I actually have one. That and the Christmas Truce inspired this story.


End file.
